Honoria Pryse observed her curiously. Lady Lyndwood's passionate loathing of her lord had always been beyond her understanding; to her own nature strong feeling was impossible.
"Did you see Captain Lyndwood to-night?" she asked.
"Yes, he is a fool and a virtuous fool, but I swear I think I love him. Oh, Honoria!" her eyes gleamed with an expression akin to insanity. "Do you not think I love him?"
"No," answered the maid, "not yet at least, but I think you hate my lord, and I wonder why; if ye had not felt this frenzy against him ye had been able to better hold your own."
The Countess did not seem to hear.
"How may one touch a man like that—hath he no soul beyond his easy pleasures?" she cried vehemently. "He will not cross swords for Selina Boyle, and he thinks he loves her. I cannot move him to any fury by talk of ruin, always his face hath one expression for me, and no way can I alter it; is there nothing in the world he cares for?"
Honoria shrugged her shoulders.
"His name, his dignity, I suppose; we have never affected that. You have been very discreet, my lady, and he knows you cannot be otherwise and keep the position you paid so highly for."
A curious look passed over the Countess's face.
"His name!" she repeated; then she laughed stupidly and shivered. "Well, we are ruined; what is before me?"